


Mr. Locke

by Evangel10n



Category: Original Work
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Kissing, POV Third Person, Regency
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:02:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28806999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evangel10n/pseuds/Evangel10n
Summary: Ms. Eaton is attending the parish ball and is annoyed by the presence of none other, Mr. Locke, the most insufferable, arrogant man of them all. But he asks her to dance, and she accepts.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 8





	Mr. Locke

**Author's Note:**

> This is a short fic that was not beta'd, but it was fun to write! I hope you enjoy it :)

She was inclined to speak her mind to the man that was undoubtedly the most arrogant and beastly of all the men at the parish ball. Certainly, she would do so if he as much as looked her way again. But as if in a glimmer of a dark, ethereal dream, he appeared next to her. What was this? She found herself stunned beyond belief. His eyes burned as she met them with her own. The music began slowly as if a whisper carried through the night air; deep, faint as a sigh, a whirlwind of whimsical notes. He bowed his head at her as she cast her eyes away from the sight of him. She would not allow him to see the effect of his presence. He offered a hand to her. She was reluctant to take it, but as if caught up within the confines of that dark dream, she took it with her satin-gloved hand. Her eyes found his dark ones as he took her, introducing her to the room. She looked at him in loathing, but he did not return the gesture. Instead, his eyes were locked into hers. There was something so—so calm about the fire burning behind them. 

His hold tightened around her hand as he pulled her into his body, her ball gown billowed out around her as she spun into him. She could not answer why that when her eyes left him in the movement, she was eager to find them again. He was warm as he placed a delicate hand on her back. His breaths were controlled as they moved back and forth, up and down the length of the hall. She found herself lost as they moved effortlessly together, waltzing to the music. The people, the paintings, the walls, the music faded with each step, their eyes never leaving each other. How could a man she detested so adamantly make her feel like she were the only woman in the room? It baffled her. Their steps quickened with the music. They moved back and forth, twirling with desperation. Nothing else mattered to the pair as long as they danced with a mutual passion of darkness and fire. 

"You shall know," he said in her ear with the music beginning to swell as they danced, "Ms. Eaton, you chose to see me as this monstrous creature fixated on the intent of devasting your fairytale. The world did not deliver me to you this way. No, you created me, made me the villain in the storybook in which you live." 

Her lips parted to retort his statement, but alas the dance called her into a spin. His arm above her, she held onto his hand as she twirled underneath it several times around the room. Each revolution she caught his eyes looking at her with the same intensity, vaguely aware that they were, in fact, not the only pair in the room. Her sights were only set on him, the infuriating man. The notes of the song calmed, like the beginning, light, and eery. She took up his shoulder again with a graceful hand, the heat in her cheeks arose as his dark eyes met her again. They waltzed more slowly now with the music. 

"And, equally, I daresay, Mr. Locke, sir, that you would not be inclined to learn the heart of the opposite sex, impeding and misguiding your assessment of mine. By the by, I would clarify the subject matter for you by telling you that a Lord like you would never reach the point of understanding much of anything related to the opposite sex. I would go as far to declare that you, sir, in fact, do not comprehend these matters due to a defect of being born with the absence of a heart yourself." Ms. Eaton said in a cool tone as she watched Mr. Locke's eyes turn. 

His grip on her back and hand tightened. A satisfied smile spread on her face as she studied his hewn features become set in a look of indignation, but still, their gazes never left each other. And for a moment as they moved with each other, Ms. Eaton knew she had gone too far when he spoke. 

"Then, of course, Ms. Eaton, surely your astute and educated opinion must be true. A lady, I dare regard you, must be a foremost expert on the subject and also must have a high esteem of your ability to qualify those around you." His voice dropped into a low whisper so that only she may hear the words he spoke, and Ms. Eaton could hear the injury in his voice. 

With the music swelling again, his lead turned furious as he moved them with sharp movements around the floor. He held her tighter to his frame, and even as inappropriate as it was in polite society, and Ms. Eaton not objecting. He spun her harder when the dance obliged them to, her gown ripping almost violently with the music. Her breaths quickened with the pace of the music and the movements. It felt full of madness and passion, something she never regarded Mr. Locke of being in possession of. If in fact he was born without the pleasure of a heart, then the nature of his intentions would not be known. Ms. Eaton supposed that as they danced to the dark and ethereal chamber music, his intentions and regard became clearer to her.

She felt small fires take alight all over her frame as his intense gaze never left hers. His tight hold said he loved her fiercely. His dark eyes said that he wanted her desperately. Ms. Eaton had never met a man such as Mr. Locke. Infuriating, fair, maddening, wonderful, cold, and passionate. Perhaps he was right, she had made him up to be the villain in her story, needing him to be that monstrous creature so that she may go on living in her naive prejudice. 

The chamber moved into the crescendo of the dark, dreamy piece, signally to end of their dance was approaching, Mr. Locke pushed into the next and she moved with him. And with one final spin, Ms. Eaton twirled out of his hold. As the music faded, the world rushed back to the pair, becoming distinctly aware that the entirety of the guest's eyes were solely focused on them. Their faces all cemented in surprise and bewilderment. Quickly Mr. Locke gave a bow as he let go of her hand and she gave a quick curtsy to him. Ms. Eaton hastily avoided the eyes of everyone as she took flight out of the dance hall. 

Outside, she was met with cool air that smarted her heated skin. She took in the bleakness of the country. The fields and trees, barely illuminated by the moon. Her chest fell heavily as she began to pace on the graveled drive that crunched underneath her boots. Surely, she and Mr. Locke's dance would be the talk of the whole town. But Ms. Eaton could not deny that she had liked the way he had held her so tight to him and relished in the way he looked at her. But these thoughts only made her stomach flutter as she paced back and forth. She herself was as bewildered as everyone inside.

"Ms. Eaton," a deep voice called from behind her, stopping her in her tracks, and she turned to find Mr. Locke standing in the threshold of the opened double doors. 

"Mr. Locke, you should find it inappropriate to accompany a lady that is out in society by herself without a chaperone." 

"And you should find that our business is not quite finished." He retorted as he took his place beside her. 

Ms. Eaton turned from him, looking up into the night sky, anything to avoid his eyes in the risk of exposing herself to him. From beside her, she could hear the gravel shifting under his boots, as he came closer to her. The air in her lungs hitched as her shoulder met his arm. Again, her stomach flutter at the scandalous fashion in which they touched. She turned her eyes from the sky to where her shoulder met him, feeling alight in the same fire, before looking back to him

For a moment they stayed like this, peering deeply into each other's eyes, while she hoped that he had forgiven her abhorrent behavior towards him. But slowly he shifted his body to face and as if compelled, she turned with him. They were so close, here in the dark and away from the maddening crowd, with barely a foot between them. And slowly his hands reached for a satin-clad hand at her side. He took it up, bring it out in front of her. His touch was warm and felt alive with the manner of the moment that found themselves in. Mr. Locke took his fingers to hers, pinching the material. Her glove was pulled from her arm, gradually exposing more and more skin. Her heart beat with panic, her breathing stopped, her eyes still locked onto his as she felt the glove fall away from her arm.  


"Mr. Locke," she tried to object as he took her hand up in his again. 

His hand held hers delicately as he bowed his head to it, kissing her hand. His lips were soft and pillowy as they caressed the back of her hand, making her stomach flutter again. Surely if discovered, it would be a black mark against her honor, her family name, but none of that mattered, here in the dark. He arose from hand, his eyes catching hers again. 

"Mr. Locke," She said in a breathy voice, "I—"

But she was cut short when he pulled her into his body once more. No the look in his eyes did not say he meant to pull her in for another dance, no he meant for something else. She hit his chest with force, his hand quickly taking up her face. Surely she should run away from him, go back into the safety of the dance hall. Surely she should stop him. But surely she never felt so alive as he took her lips with his. It was not a gentle kiss, but a hard, greedy, passionate one. It was backed by a whole lifetime of misunderstood intentions and childish disregard for each other. Ms. Eaton felt as if the whole world had exploded in her chest as he kissed her. And slowly, she began to settle into his feverish kiss and reciprocated it in an equal fashion. 

He had been right, that she did live in a fairytale world, but she never thought that the man she had made the villain of her story was really the man of her dreams in disguise. 


End file.
